In a flash of faint half-light, she saw that her feet were climbing spiral steps, and the closeness of the foul tunnel was replaced with the closeness of a passageway. This sensation roiled through her mind, and she quickly withdrew her hand. The darkness returned. Once more she stood in the cave. Once more she heard the trickle of water somewhere to her left.
Her mind revolted. Rose Red could either go mad or pretend she did not understand what was happening. She chose the latter and continued on her way, careful not to touch the walls again.
Even so, as she progressed, sometimes she could have sworn she still climbed the servants’ stair. Only it was the longest in the world, like a stairway to the stars; either that or she climbed the same steps again and again, unable to progress. If anything, it was better in the depths of the tunnel. A nightmare seemed more bearable than a reality gone wrong.
The stench eventually either faded or she grew accustomed to it. The trickle of running water disappeared as well, and there was nothing but darkness around and uneven stones underfoot.
Then she saw a light ahead.
No more than a tiny pinprick, perhaps very far, perhaps very near; impossible to tell in that blackness. Like a star it shone in the depths of space, quite unlike dragon fire.
“Don’t go near the light, princess.”
The Dragon’s voice hissed in her ear. For an instant she thought she must have died; but then her heart started to beat again and she managed to draw a breath.
“Avoid the light,” he said. “Avoid it at all costs.”
She kept walking.
“It’s not worth it,” he said.
“I . . . I’ll go where I please.” Her voice emerged in a tiny gasp. But Rose Red meant what she said.
The Dragon snarled, circling behind her. Then he spoke in her other ear. “You’ll wish you hadn’t. You’ll only find sorrow. You’ll only find regret.”
“I’ll find what I find,” she replied and managed another step. And another. She knew he dogged her footsteps. She knew darkness fell into deeper darkness on either side of her. But she kept her eyes on that pinprick spark and moved toward it, sometimes down a rocky incline, sometimes up a spiral stair, always forward.
The Dragon’s voice surrounded her. She felt him stalking her like a lion, disembodied yet potent.
“He killed his brother, killed him in his anger and his jealousy. He wanted to meet me, wanted to know the beauty of my kiss. But his brother would not let him. So he killed his brother and buried him here. Then in regret, he left a light upon the grave. How pathetic! As though such a light may atone for his sin.”
Rose Red continued walking, her gaze fixed upon the glow. It was growing now, bolder and stronger. It cast shadows on the rocks around her, and occasionally on the rail of a stair.
“You know their names . . . the Brothers Ashiun.”
She did not answer.
“They came across the Final Water to teach mortal man the cursed Sphere Songs. They doomed mortals to lives of slavery and taught them to fear the gift I offered.”
“Good job on their part, I expect.” Rose Red held her skirts in her hands, climbing the stair now. Her breath came in short gasps, partly because of fear, partly because of irritation.
“The younger brother longed for my kiss. He saw the hopelessness of his state, chained to a duty he could never fulfill. There could be no other alternative. There can be release only in my gift! His brother was different. His brother was favored by the Prince of Farthestshore, commissioned to carry a certain lantern. A blaze of white fire, princess. It will hurt your eyes. You must avoid it at all costs.”
“I could try to care about what you’re sayin’.” Rose Red panted as she took another step and found the stairway gone and the rocks once more beneath her feet. Her head hurt with disorientation and she longed to close her eyes. But then she would have no light to guide her. “I could try to care, but I ain’t sure it’s worth the bother.”
“But the younger was entrusted with a gift less fine, for he was less favored. Nothing more than a silver sword, a useless weapon . . .”
The Dragon’s voice trailed off. Rose Red thought he might still be speaking, but she could no longer hear him as she neared that light.
She saw a grave.
The moment she recognized it for what it was, the cave gave way, and she stood on a vast, empty plain. No sky vaulted overhead, only emptiness. The light illuminated rolling gray hills, sparse with ugly growth. A lone wind drifted her way, tugging at her rags and her veil, billowing through the rough grasses that grew around the grave.
It was an old grave, she knew, though the turf looked newly turned. Something in the air told her that whoever dug this grave had come and gone long ages ago. But that one had done a neat job of it, even fixing a stone marker in place.